Vivienne Crow lingers in the Lakes
BLUE-GREY CLOUDS hang low in the sky, weighed down with moisture; sagging, hammock-like, their dark bottoms smother the summits. Blea Tarn is dead still. There’s no chance of capturing one of those classic images of the Langdale Pikes framed by the fells rising either side of Blea Tarn Pass. In fact, with so little wind, I initially doubt I’ll be getting any photographs of the tops today. Yet, as I emerge from the pitched gully path on the north-eastern slopes of Pike o’ Blisco, not only have the Pikes shrugged off their heavy covers, but sudden bursts of sunshine are lending them a green and silvery glow, melodramatic against the ominous backdrop of the bruised sky.
The plus side of the apparent threat of rain is that I have the path to myself. I can take my time on the short scrambly bits, savouring the warm, dry rock under my hands. On a previous occasion, when they’ve been sheathed in ice, I’ve reluctantly had to bypass these sections.
Pike o’ Blisco’s summit cairn and tiny shelter are perched on the north-west edge of the small, knobbly top, tightly bound by crags and boulders. From here, I have a superb view down into Great Langdale, whilst the scree and buttresses of Crinkle Crags loom seductively at the rugged head of Oxendale.
A stony trail plunges to a crossing of routes near Red
Tarn, smaller and a lot less impressive than its namesake at the base of Helvellyn’s headwall.
I head south, later crossing the Wrynose Pass road near the point where Cumberland, Westmorland and Lancashire met before the 1974 local government reorganisation. Today, it’s all Cumbria. When Cumbria – the administrative county, at least – ceases to exist in 2023, it’ll be on the border of the two new unitary authorities of Westmorland and Furness, and Cumberland.
As I gain height – and the ground to my right drops away dramatically – I get a bird’s eye perspective on the tiny beck and the tiny road winding their tiny ways down through Wrynose Bottom far below. A Matchbox car is creeping slowly and silently towards Hardknott Pass. As I finally gain the main ridge, the scene ahead suddenly changes… I’m looking across to Wetherlam and Swirl How now, although it is Great Carrs that captures my attention. Up close, the former are the more exciting fells for walkers, approached on rugged ground and linked by a rocky ridge; the latter’s grassy plateau is dull in comparison. From this distance, though, the fearsome buttresses on Great Carrs’ east face hang malevolently over the largely forgotten head of the Greenburn valley, whilst Wetherlam and Swirl How look relatively benign. Turning my back on the dale head, I begin a leisurely descent east along the grassy crest. After I descend and cross Greenburn Beck via a sturdy bridge, a series of stony tracks and minor roads leads me back to the Blea Tarn car park.